


An Unconventional Thanks

by s_k_apegoat



Category: Uncharted (Video Games)
Genre: Frottage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-23
Updated: 2017-08-23
Packaged: 2018-12-18 23:14:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11884884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/s_k_apegoat/pseuds/s_k_apegoat
Summary: Set after the cutscene where Salim rescues and harbors Drake in Uncharted 3.Nathan gives thanks in a way that isn't exactly conventional, but he isn't complaining.





	An Unconventional Thanks

**Author's Note:**

> I'm disappointed with you, internet.
> 
> NO FANWORKS ON DRAKE AND SALIM??? AT ALL???
> 
> WAS I THE ONLY ONE WHO FELL IN LOVE WITH SALIM WHEN HE CAME CHARGING IN ON HIS WHITE HORSE??? 
> 
> Typed this up in a night so it's rather quick, but I just needed to get the Drake/Salim out of my system after finishing the game last night.

“So for tonight, rest. Tomorrow, they enter the canyons. We’ll take them there.” 

The Arab Sheikh gave Nathan an encouraging clap on the shoulder, accompanied by a slight squeeze. Not that the gesture itself was suggestive in any way, but that had Nathan turning his head to fix the other male with a curious gaze.

There was a twinkle in Salim’s eyes, and it wasn’t just the reflection of the fire. A slightly curved smile accompanied and lingered along with his gaze for a little longer than normal.  
Before Nathan could ponder on the possible hidden prompt behind the gestures and expressions though, Salim was gone. Strolling back to his tent to rest for the night.

 

The fire in front of him was an extremely welcome comfort considering the two nights Drake had to endure the freezing cold of the desert, hungry, thirsty and exhausted. He had wolfed down the simple bread and dried meat Salim had offered after their tiring journey from the deserted, crumpling town, and gladly accepted the cups of Arabian coffee the Arab brewed over the fireplace. The brew was strong, left his stomach feeling warm and tingly, and his senses more alert than he’d preferred, but the meal and left him feeling more sated and refreshed than ever. All he wanted to do now was sink down into a proper bed and catch up on some sleep, but his mind could not stop from wandering to thoughts about Sully, whether his mentor and friend was safe or injured, and whether Elena managed to escape from the compound unharmed.

His fingers were still cold though, despite the roaring fire in front of him. He rubbed them over the tin cup he was drinking from, then taking another sip from the cooling coffee.

Drake continued mulling over his thoughts for a while, absentmindedly poking at the fire with a thick branch until the rustling and chatter of the tribesmen began to dissipate, most going into the several moderate-sized communal tents to rest for the night. 

Leaving the cup on the tray next to the fire, Nathan stood up, contemplating whether he should be putting out the fire or not, but decided against it in the end. 

During the short walk from the campfire to the tent that he was to be a guest in, all Drake could think about was what he’d give for a steaming hot bath to ease his sore muscles and aching bones. Upon entering his designated space in the large communal tent, he was surprised to find that he had a small closed-off area to himself, and a small tub of water and a fresh thobe laid out on the makeshift bedspread for him.

He dunked his hand into the water, lukewarm, not steaming hot, but better than nothing. After those two grueling nights out surviving the desert, Drake was not about to complain about the simple pleasures in life, such as feeling clean after today’s ordeal.  
“No beaches for me, for the time being.” The American muttered to himself as he began to undress, tossing his soiled clothes to the side for now. He really wasn’t looking forward to putting on the same pieces of clothing tomorrow, and he grimaced at the thought. 

It was awkward, trying to bathe oneself in a tent with only a small tub of water and a washcloth, but Drake managed, although almost tripping on himself and falling out of the tent one time.  
But he felt refreshed, and clean, all the grime and sweat from the battle during the day gone from his skin, which was a huge relief. He walked back to his pile of discarded clothing, then decided he wasn’t going to wear the same pair of dirty underwear tonight, not wanting to think about how many days he spent wearing the same pair of briefs during his time in the desert, and settled with putting on the simple Thobe and pants provided for him instead.

He felt more than ready to rest, so as soon as he managed to somewhat tidy up his sleeping space, he moved to blow out the candles in the elaborate copper lanterns handing from the supportive beams. It did not escape him that the tenant next to his space still had their candles burning though.  
It wasn’t that Nathan was uncomfortable with this sleeping arrangement, but old habits die hard, and although Salim assured that Nathan was a welcome guest in his tribe, he’d still like to at least know who was sleeping next to him. 

Ever so slowly, Drake stuck a finger into the side of the hanging fabric that separated the sleeping spaces, only to recoil in a rather frantic and childish manner when he was met with the gaze of the occupant next door, which turned out to be none other than the Sheikh himself. Nathan quickly hid behind the fabric again, before saying,

“Um. Sorry. I just wanted to be sure of who was sleeping next door.”

He was met with silence. But what he couldn’t see was the amused smirk Salim wore whilst going back to his book.

“Just an… Old habit, I guess. I’ve had my share of people deciding to attack me when I sleep.” Nathan added sheepishly, shifting from one foot to the other.

”So, uh… Sorry, again? And uh, goodni-”

“I take it you enjoyed the bath?” He didn’t get to finish before Salim’s thickly-accented voice cut in, “Judging by the sounds you made?”

Blood rushed to Nathan’s face when he realized he must’ve unintentionally let out a few moans when he scrubbed himself clean, to voice his pleasure at being able to feel washed and clean for the first time in a long while, and he struggled to find words to say as he silently thanked the gods or whatever deity was up there for the existence of the large body of fabric that separated himself from the other man, saving himself from being seen with the dumbfounded and embarrassed expression Nathan was sure he was wearing right now.

“I apologize I couldn’t provide you with a more comfortable bath. I am not one of those Sheikhs that travel around with superfluous furnishings. Practicality is more important than vanity when you live in the desert.” Salim chuckled.

“No..! It was more than generous!” Nathan retorted, and only when he saw Salim’s slightly taken back expression did he realize he had just unceremoniously burst through the curtain that separated them.

Both men were silent for a moment, before a smile crept onto Salim’s face and he beckoned for Drake to fully enter. “Join me.” He invited, already setting out another silver cup on the patterned rug in front of him and pouring steaming coffee into it.  
Not being able to come up with an excuse to reject the other’s offer, Nathan could only sheepishly slip into Salim’s quarters, which turned out to be at least two times bigger than his own (although he wasn’t surprised by this).

He accepted the coffee with a muttered “Thank you”, before taking in his surroundings. It was modestly decorated, in shades of blue and indigo, with the same intricate lanterns hung around the tent for lighting, and a few chests and small tables here and there. Just like Salim had said, he was a practical man. 

Drake’s eyes eventually drifted back to the Arab before him, who was casually lounging on a mound of several large pillows and rugs, one novel in hand, completely at ease.  
He was in less layers of clothing, the leather ammo and gun slings gone from his ensemble. Short, thick curls of hair now visible since he’s removed the keffiyeh from his head.

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, Nathan was probably the only one who found it mildly awkward. With the only sounds being the occasional flip of a book page, or Drake sipping his coffee.  
He had to admit the coffee was extremely soothing in this desert cold.

“I uh,” Nathan cleared his throat before continuing, “I wanted to thank you again. For your hospitality. I don’t really deserve this generosity. Considering I don’t have anything to offer in return.” 

He looked into his coffee cup, surprised to see Salim looking right back at him when he tilted his head back up again. The Arab’s eyes shining in the warm glow of the lantern light.

“It is my honor to host an American guest in my tent.” Was all the Sheikh said, when he finally broke eye contact and returned to his book, but Nathan could already feel the change, like an electric charge spiking up the air around them.  
Perhaps it was the exhaustion, and the potent coffee in his system, but it suddenly made Nathan feel very bold and light-headed. 

“I…” he gulped. “If only there was something I could do. You did save my life back there today.” Nathan didn’t realize he was absentmindedly scratching at the back of his neck at this point.

But there it was. That stare again.  
Salim set down his book, leaning forward to rest an elbow on a propped up knee, their faces much closer now. Nathan could not help thinking to himself how handsome Salim really was, with the way the fire light danced across his sharp and angular features. How the dark eyelashes framed the sparkling onyx that were Salim’s eyes.

Next thing he knew, was the feeling of Salim’s lips upon his own, the other’s stubble scratching against his own chin and face. He was lost in it for a moment until he snapped and pulled away from Salim’s hold. The Sheikh wearing a slightly amused expression despite the hazed look in his eyes.

“Oh, I assumed you Americans preferred to be more direct. My apologies.” He began to retreat back to his lounging position, when Nathan interrupted him, leaning forwards but stopping halfway as if he could pull the Arab back against him,  
”I… Is this… What you want?” 

“I don’t mind… It’s just… Well, I don’t know if it’s enough as thanks…”

Salim managed to settle back in his original lazing lounge, one hand supporting the side of his face as he surveyed the American opposite him.

“Come here.”

And Nathan found himself obeying, crawling over to the leader of the tribesman as he carefully avoided the coffee cups between them, stopping short only when their faces were close enough for them to kiss again.

Salim wasted no time luring Nathan into another kiss, moving his lips slowly against the others’ as one hand came up to caress and knead at the back of his neck, feeling the tension slowly beginning to ease from the American’s frame.

It wasn’t foreign to Drake, kissing the same sex. Not that different from kissing a woman, although he tried to refrain from thinking about Elena at this moment. He could taste the bitter tang of Arabian coffee in Salim’s mouth, gradually getting stronger as the (assumed) older male began slipping in some tongue into the fevered kiss.  
His mouth tasted of Salim, his nostrils were filled with Salim’s scent, musky, but clean, and Nathan wanted more of it.

He wove his fingers into the dark curls, finding them surprisingly soft, and seemed to be torn between wanting to pull on the Arab’s dark hair and crushing them closer together as they kissed, if that was even possible. 

They managed to maneuver themselves without parting lips, Nathan now sort of straddling over Salim, and it was the American male that was now putting much more fervor into the battle of lips and tongues.  
Salim chuckled into the kiss, and managed to pull away enough to comment, “Eager are we, Mr. Drake?”  
Nathan could only moan and crush their lips together once more in reply, licking at Salim’s mouth in search of more of the other man’s flavor, acutely aware of the Arab’s hands wandering over his sides, down his ass and thighs. His hands were hot even through the single layer of fabric that clothed Nathan.

Another chuckle escaped Salim as he roamed his hands over Nathan’s ass once more and realized the American was not wearing any underwear. He didn’t comment on it though, merely smacking Nathan’s ass lightly as a response before running his scorching palm over the round of the other’s behind, kneading the firm flesh there as he did.  
This managed to wring another groan out of Nathan, as he began bucking his hips in time to Salim’s touch.

The Arab applied pressure into his grip, and managed to bring Nathan’s lower half down enough to ground their hips together, letting Nathan feel the unmistakable bulge that was his erection.

Nathan found himself being pulled back, he made a small noise in protest, but Salim kept on mouthing against his stubbled jawline until he reached his ear and that noise turned into a satisfied moan. “I’d like you to use your mouth.” The sheikh drawled, the vibrations from his voice sending a zap down Nathan’s spine and he arched his back at the sensation, “I’m assuming you’ve done this before?”

No words needed to be said before Nathan starting slinking his way down Salim’s body, rubbing his face against the other male’s front and clothing as he went, taking his fill of the other’s scent.

It didn’t take much time to free the other’s cock from the confines of the loose pants. Salim’s erection was already standing proud, eager and hungry for Nathan’s attention. It was darker than the rest of him, and Nathan wrapped his hand around the Sheikh’s cock, giving it several experimental strokes, hoping his calloused hands wouldn’t be a reason for discomfort.  
The action elicited a pleased moan from Salim’s lips, so Nathan took that as a good sign.  
He alternated his strokes, pumping and adding in some circular wrist movements, occasionally thumbing across the engorged head, feeling the flesh in his grip grow stiffer and hotter with each stroke. 

“Ah…Mouth. Nathan. Use your mouth.”

Drake obliged, keeping his own blue eyes trained on Salim’s, he licked a torturously slow stripe from the base of Salim’s member to the head, french kissing the bulbous tip before wrapping his lips around the shaft and sinking his head down inch by inch.  
The Arabian man’s hips trembled with the effort of resisting the urge to just buck into the wet, silky heat, although he did end up somewhat involuntarily thrusting a little, just not enough to choke Nathan.

It took several tries until Nathan could fully accommodate Salim’s cock in his mouth, the Sheikh was well-endowed, not ridiculously disproportioned, but big enough to create that unrelenting pressure at the back of Nathan’s throat.  
Drake’s head was swimming with Salim’s heady scent and arousal, his throat and jaw stretched enough to create a slight sore.

Nathan let his hands roam over Salim’s front as he continued to take the other in deep, controlling his breathing and swallowing around the member in his mouth a few times, that managed to rip a pleasured hiss from Salim. Even Drake himself was surprised he could manage to perform the act of deep-throating rather well despite not doing it very often, but the sensation of having his mouth filled and feeling Salim’s cock pulsating in him was enough to send waves of tingly pleasure that went straight to his own groin.

“Sorry if I’m not as good as your harem.” Nathan joked as he pulled off of the older man, continuing to mouth around his glistening cock as he kneaded the strong thighs that developed with years of daily horseback riding. 

“Don’t have one.” Salim grunted, nudging his cock against Nathan’s lips, eager to slip back into the heat of the American male’s mouth, “Not here at least.” 

He gently guided Nathan’s head back down on his member, with Nathan deciding not to comment on the Sheikh’s rare lack of bed partners in these long, cold Arabian nights.  
“But you’re doing a fine job.” Salim added, stroking the top of Nathan’s head as he did, which had Nathan humming in response around the man’s cock to the praise. Rewarding the Arab by taking him deep once more. 

Drake continued his administrations until Salim’s member began to pulsate more frequently. He was fully prepared to go all the way as he began to quicken his pace, only to have Salim usher him off and pull him back up until their faces met once more.  
The Sheikh cupped his face in both hands as he pulled Nathan in for another dizzying kiss, slow and lazy, but still demanding, tasting himself on the American’s lips and tongue. 

It was then Nathan’s turn to impatiently grind himself against Salim, his clothed cock against the other’s exposed one. This made them both groan into each other’s mouths as they rut against one another, Drake allowing more of his own weight to press down into Salim as they seemingly melted into the piles of rugs and throws under them. 

“As much as I’d like to fuck you senseless, I don’t think it’d work too well for you considering your plans for tomorrow.” Salim managed to mutter in their frenzied kissing and rutting, to which Nathan could only moan in reply as he gyrated his hips even more, increasing in desperation as he felt Salim’s calloused hands slip under his thobe, moving over his abdomen and eventually his chest, before fondling his nipples with the pads of his thumbs. The tips of the Arab’s fingers were rough, but his palms were soft and scorching, and Nathan couldn’t decide if he wanted to push his chest into those hands or grind his hips into the other more. 

The same hands eventually wandered further down South, deftly undoing the ties on the linen pants Nathan wore in the short amount of time and space he allowed between the rutting, before Salim took Nathan’s length In his hands, making him moan louder with the direct contact. 

Drake’s breath hitched in his throat though, when he heard shuffling and hushed mutters outside the tent, and he stilled for a moment, before attempting to move from his position above the Sheikh, but finding it impossible to do so with Salim’s unrelenting grip around his cock and the pressure in the small of his back.  
“..! Let go, they’ll hear us!” Nathan whispered, urgency laced in his voice, from wanting to leave or from his rising need to climax, neither of them could tell. But Salim did not yield, instead forcing Nathan back down and pressing their bodies flush against each other again, his left hand sliding from the small of Nathan’s back to stroke the crevice between his ass, moving in time with the languid strokes administered to his cock.

“Salim…” Nathan protested again, his voice drowned out as soon as the other male began mouthing as his jaw again, turning his pleads into breathy moans he tried his best to contain when Salim found the spot on his neck just below his ear once more. Satisfied with Drake’s giving up his struggle, Salim smirked and began alternating between sucking and nipping at the sensitive flesh on that spot, prompting Nathan to began grinding his hips again.

The Arab eventually wrapped his hand around both of their members so they could frot against each other, relentlessly attacking that one sweet spot on Drake’s neck as the American became undone on top of him. 

“I’m gonna…Salim…please…” 

Drake’s hips jerked as he moved in desperation, chasing the light at the end of the tunnel, but finding his pace forcibly dragged down as Salim slowed his movements.

“Please what?” 

Drake lifted himself from the warmth of Salim and focused his vision enough to find a mischievous smirk on the other man’s face, with Salim’s occasional infuriating scratching of his nails at the tip of his cock not helping anything.  
He thrust his hips again in search of that tightness in Salim’s fist, disappointment washing over him when Salim relaxed his hands even further.

Nathan could do nothing except bury his head in Salim’s shoulder as he tried to catch his breath and counter the Arab’s battle of wills. He almost forgot about the voices outside the tent until he took this moment to come down from his high enough to think about his next plan of action.

“Please what?” Salim repeated again, whispering against Nathan’s ear, and he couldn’t stop the shudder than ran through him, although he stood his ground and refused to voice what he desired out loud, shaking his head in defiance against Salim’s shoulder.

“Don’t make me say it.” He grumbled, moving his hips again in an attempt to coax Salim into giving him the release he craved. And he almost growled out of frustration when he didn’t receive the friction he anticipated. 

Drake lifted his head again, his lips pressed in a tight line, or what Salim would’ve considered a pout on the handsome American features, before he dove in for another kiss, licking and nipping at the Arab’s lips, hoping it’d be enough to make Salim yield. Salim only hummed in response, lazily kissing him back.

When that didn’t work, Nathan Drake decided that getting his release was more important than his own bruised pride right now, and proceeded to mutter against Salim’s lips whilst keeping his eyes trained on the other’s, “Let me come. Please.”

That brought another roguish smirk to Salim’s lips, and in one quick, unanticipated movement, Nathan found himself flipped over and pinned down by the Sheikh, his back flush against the plush carpets as Salim knelt between his thighs and finally brought their cocks together again, thrusting and jerking them both in one fist as the other busied itself in tracing the contours of Nathan’s body.

He timed his own thrusts against Salim’s, the sounds of their flesh smacking against each other being heard by Salim’s tribesmen being the last thing on Drake’s mind right now. Yet he still had the mind to cover his mouth and bite down on a closed fist when he could feel all his pent up energy and frustration on the brink of release.

Not that Salim allowed that of course, since the Arab male quickly moved to pin Nathan’s hands above his head, delving in to attack the spot on the side of the American’s neck again as he sought to wrench the pleasured groans from Nathan’s mouth.

He came with a choked, suppressed cry. Twisting his head into his bicep, only giving Salim a better angle at attacking his neck as he rode out his orgasm, his legs clamping around the Arab’s waist and he sought to bring him closer.  
Salim came not long after, releasing his own load onto Drake’s belly as he clamped his teeth down onto the other male’s neck, wringing another surprised cry from Drake.

 

He remembers nothing after that. The next thing Drake knew was that he was awake, in Salim’s tent, clean and fully clothed, having been completely knocked out after last night’s run on Salim’s bedspread. 

Salim was absent from the tent, but he could hear the Sheikh already busy with giving orders to prepare for the chase. Drake lingered in the cozy pile of blue rugs and blankets for several moments more, breathing in Salim’s scent from the fabric before he forced himself up and slipped back into his side of the tent, reluctantly changing out of the thobe into his soiled clothing.

He was greeted by Salim’s tribesmen when he left the tent, the Arab men giving him knowing looks that had Drake wanting to just shoot himself right then and there, before he joined Salim in preparing for the attack that morning.

He was thankful the Sheikh did not act any differently than he did prior to last night, nor speak about what had happened. To think Salim had probably cleaned him off and rearranged him on the bed so he could have a night of comfortable rest…  
Did they even share the bed together? Did he snore? Sully always complained about Nathan snoring when they had to share accommodation. Did Salim actually get any rest at all?

‘So much for showing your appreciation, Drake.’ he thought to himself.

 

Salim accompanied himself and Sully to the border of the Rub Al Khali desert after the whole ordeal at the Atlantis of the Sands.The Arab had saved his life. Twice already. And Sully’s. He was beginning to think this debt was impossible to repay.

Nathan extended his hand to the Sheikh, once again thanking him for all that he had done.

“Do come and visit me again.” Salim replied, the same twinkle in his eye that held another meaning to Nathan, but unbeknownst to Sully.  
And Nathan found himself thinking that maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to be stuck in the desert again. Only if Salim came riding up on his white horse to come greet him once more.


End file.
